


Clashing Patterns

by luq



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luq/pseuds/luq
Summary: An uneventful day at H. E. Styles Formalwear and Image Consulting is interrupted by the arrival of a highly unusual customer.





	Clashing Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> Gleeful, shameless crack suggested by and written for my dear friend. Single draft, single sitting. It's all in fun! Enjoy!

H. E. Styles Formalwear and Image Consulting was, on most days, a bustling hub of fashion for the very rich and very beautiful. Specializing in clothing so eclectic as to transcend the concept of a "trend," to be seen in a Styles was to be seen as a god-- or, at the very least, a person worthy of significant envy. Sensible-shoe-wearing tourists would peer incessantly through the windows, vying for a chance to glimpse a famous face, and eyeing the "By Appointment Only" sign as though it had attacked them in their home.

Today was not "most days."

Harry Styles himself-- a rather young man, slight and sporting an unruly mop of long, brown hair-- slumped idly across a large and ornate desk, badly rumpling his green paisley suit. The shop had opened at ten in the morning; it was now two in the afternoon. In that time, Harry had rearranged every major display, straightened the tags, backed up his client files, and dusted the desk. He had not, however, seen a single customer. All of the scheduled clients had either cancelled their appointments, or failed to appear without explanation; no hopeful drop-in clients stopped by, either-- not even tourists wearing sensible shoes. 

Harry supposed he could blame it on the rain, but he'd worked plenty of rainy days without so much as a single cancellation. It was, he decided as he fiddled mindlessly with a gold-plated ballpoint, very damn strange. 

An odd "Pop!" startled him upright; the entry door swung open, and Harry leapt to his feet, trying furiously to smooth his jacket. He glanced down at the day's schedule, put on his best customer-service smile, and stepped around the desk to greet the tall man shaking a pink umbrella in the doorway.

"Ah, Mister James, I presume?" The man stepped further into the room, and Harry blinked, taken aback. Mister James was tall, clad in what appeared to be an indigo cloak, and sporting the most impressive silver beard Harry had seen in his nearly-thirty years _._ The man chuckled, his very blue, very sharp eyes twinkling merrily.

"I'm afraid not. My name," he said in a low, warm voice, "Is Albus Dumbledore." He extended a long-fingered hand, which Harry shook politely; it was surprisingly warm and dry for a man just stepping out of an autumn storm.

"Harry Styles, sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. Um--" Harry faltered for a moment, thinking of schedules and appointments and where Mister James might be, "You don't have an appointment, correct?"

"Oh," said Dumbledore rather gravely, "I'm afraid I don't, my dear boy. You see, I am looking for a hat." His eyes locked on the hat display; he stepped closer to it, and began examining each hat one by one.

"A hat," Harry repeated. "Well, sir, you seem to have found them. Were you looking for any style in particular?"

"Oh, yes! A very special hat, indeed."

"Right." Dumbledore picked up a top hat, held it up to his face, and peered very seriously inside. "Well, you seem to know what you're looking for. If you have any questions, please let me know." 

Dumbledore chuckled again, quite muffled with his face in the hat. "Of course, of course. Would you care for a lemon drop?" Harry blinked.

"A what? Sir?"

Dumbledore pulled his face out of the hat. "Would you care," he repeated, "For a lemon drop?"

"Um," Harry said, mentally grimacing at his own lapse in professionalism, "That's alright, thank you, sir."

"I thought so!" Dumbledore reached into a velvet-trimmed pocket, and produced a yellow candy wrapped in cellophane. "There you go!" Harry's hand reached out automatically, and Dumbledore dropped the drop into his palm before returning to the hats.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, returning to his desk with the intention of returning to his work and leaving the eccentric old man to his hat-shopping devices, and utterly failing thirty seconds later when Dumbledore appeared before him with a very tall, violently purple hat sporting a peacock feather.

"This," Dumbledore proclaimed gleefully, "Is the very hat I was seeking!"

Harry had never seen this hat in his life.

"That's really wonderful news, sir." 

Dumbledore reached into the lemon drop pocket, and produced a handful of large, gold coins. "For the hat," he said, depositing several coins on the desk in one neat stack, "And for the trouble of keeping it!" This stack was larger.

Harry stared at the coins in front of him, not even bothering to fix his expression. "Sir," he began slowly, but Dumbledore was already at the door. "Sir!" Harry repeated, standing, but Dumbledore simply winked, placed the hat on his head, and stepped out, closing the door behind him; another muffled "Pop!" followed.

Harry stalked irritably across the storefront, and shoved the door open, very nearly knocking over a heavily mustached man on the step.

"I'm so  _very_ sorry, sir, come in, please, do you have an appointment?" Harry said in a rush, looking over the man's shoulder for a glimpse of Dumbledore; after a moment, he gave up, spinning around and returning to his desk.

"Er-- yes, I do," said the man, watching Harry with consternation, "My name is David James."

Harry froze, staring at his desk-- what had been two stacks of large gold coins, had become two stacks of neat and legal bills, the lemon drop sat delicately upon the taller of the two. With no other choice, he turned back to his customer, plastering on a polite smile and trying not to look too panicked.

"Mister James," he said. "How may I help you?" 

"Well," said Mr. James, "I was rather hoping to find a hat."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you had fun reading this-- I had possibly too much fun writing it. Kudos and comments are always welcome!


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